Waiting
by Rael Ellan
Summary: After all his adventures with the Doctor, all the places he'd seen, all the things he'd done, he hadn't expected to die like this.


After all his adventures with the Doctor, all the places he'd seen, all the things he'd done, he hadn't expected to die like this.

He had died before, of course, but that was different. That was with the Doctor, who would come out of nowhere and save the day and Rory would be alive again.

Not this time.

This time, he was lying in a car park with a bullet nestling.

This time, the Doctor had run off and left them with their dream life, his dream car and a mind full of memories. He had left them to their mundane lives because it was 'safe.'

Rory sniffed. It was getting difficult to breathe.

He could feel his phone, sitting in his jeans pocket. All he would have to do would be pull it out and call Amy. She would come running, even without her Raggedy Doctor. She would take control of the situation. She would do the thinking for him and he wouldn't have to worry. She would be 'Pond' again, settling back into the old routine. She would hold his hand and tell him everything would be alright and would mean every word, whether it was true or not. And afterwards, she would call him 'stupid face' and tease him for the way his voice shook when he called her.

He should call her, he knew. He _should_ call an ambulance. He knew that, too. But he was just so _tired. _The bullet was pressing down against him and he just couldn't _think_ around that, so difficult to think at all.

But Amy wasn't the only one who had travelled with the Doctor. He had been a companion, too. Now, he was a doctor. He was _her_ doctor. Her stupid doctor. The part of him that still had dreams of Rome, of the pandorica, of all those ages _alone_ had woken up again. It was still running, whirring through his mind to try and find the right door.

_Of course_, Rory thought with a smile, _I never really _had _a door. _

He closed his eyes as his sudden bark of laughter shook his body and his lung protested irritably.

He was aware that his body was going into shock. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter any more. Everything was out of proportion. And his eyes were so _heavy_. Would it matter, really, if he were to fall asleep, just for a little while?

He could feel the familiar tug of the darkness, reaching out and soothing him. It was warm. The noise of the world around him; the cars, the passing train, the roars of laughter from the pub across the street, all began to fade away.

Silence fell.

He was almost glad of it, really. All that noise had been painful.

"Oi! Stupid face!"

The silence fell away and for a moment he foundered, disoriented.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket.

"I know you're there, so pick up the phone!"

So in the end, Amy had called him. He supposed it was fitting. After all, she did always make the first move.

"Come on, stupid face!"

She could yell all she wanted, but it _hurt_ to reach his phone. He had to lever himself up to allow him to tug the offending item from his pocket and the movement had strained the wound in his lung. It was still bleeding, he could feel it.

"A-Amy?"

"Finally! Any longer and I'd have hung up. Honestly, I won't wait forever, you know."

Ah, the old joke. It felt good to hear her voice. She was smiling, he could tell. He wasn't tired anymore.

"Amy?"

"What's wrong, Rory?"

A single word from him and her entire focus shifted. After all they had been through, she knew when he was worried, sometimes before he did. That was why they worked.

"Help me, Amy."

"Where are you?"

She didn't question it. He was in trouble and 'Pond' was back. The strength was seeping back into his voice and the desire to survive began to suffuse throughout his body. His lung was throbbing, but it was a good pain, now. The Doctor was wrong, Rory decided. How could he not have faith in anything, when she was his world?

"Charren Street Car Park. It hurts, Amy."

Bang. That was the front door. He could hear her swearing down the phone as she dropped the car keys.

"Stay there. Don't move. I'll be right there and then you'll be fine. Alright? Just don't move."

And there it was. There was the difference that would always stand between them, make them stronger, make them weaker. Rory was a doctor. He had a bullet in his lung. He'd lost a lot of blood.

Rory was a realist. He wasn't sure he'd live to 'fine.'

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he knew he _should_ say, just in case 'fine' never came.

He sighed.

"I'll wait."

The phone slipped from his hand and bounced along the ground, ending the call. The blackness was threading across his vision again.

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing, in and out, in and out.

And so he waited, one last time.


End file.
